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Tim really seemed to think he had Jason fooled.
Hah.
No.
Tim, otherwise known as Timmy, Timmers, Timbo, or any other version of his name that Jason could come up with in an attempt to annoy the kid, was a suburbs kid through and through. He’d clearly taken pains to dress in normal people clothes, but even his simple clothing was too new and too clean to belong on a Crime Alley kid. Tim used a smartphone when he needed directions or to write something down, too. Jason knew enough about smartphones from having stolen quite a few to know that the one Tim was using was several years out of date and really roughed up, but really. It was honestly kind of cute the amount of naivety it took to think that poor kids just had slightly poorer quality luxuries of the rich.
Then, there was the camera.
Tim claimed that he had stolen the camera from a professional photographer. Jason had just laughed at him. The kid had turned as red as Jason’s hoodie and mumbled that he had stolen it, but it was a stupid lie. Tim had clearly never stolen a thing in his life. Besides, he knew how to use it too well to have just snatched it and ran, and no one ran around the city chasing after Batman with a stolen camera. Jason was leaning towards one of Tim’s apparently clueless parents being the pro photographer, and he was sure that Tim took great pains to always put the camera back exactly where he’d gotten it.
Despite the fact that his family was at least moderately wealthy, and that Tim was lying through his teeth anytime Jason asked him a real question, Tim had kind of grown on Jason, like a toe wart or a bad habit.
Because Jason was not the only one who could tell that Tim wasn’t a local; everyone could tell that. The first time Jason had saved him from a couple junior gang members trying to steal his camera (because they actually did steal things), Jason had told Tim as much. Tim had ignored Jason’s wise warning to stay the hell out of Crime Alley if he wasn’t packing heat, and Jason had found the kid kneeling on the rooftop just a few feet from Jason’s sleeping bag, pointing that stupid camera of his at the roof across the street.
Jason had followed the camera with his eyes, and his jaw dropped. There, only a hundred feet away, was a rabid traffic light attacking a full grown man. And winning.
Jason had watched, just as enthralled as Tim, as Robin dropped the man and started tying him up. When it was clear that the show was over, though, he’d shaken himself of the reverie and reminded himself that Robin would do that same thing to Jason if he ever caught him, given how much he’d stolen.
“What are you doing here?” Jason had snapped at the kid, his stomping footsteps crunching on the gravel. “If I were anyone else, I’d take your camera and throw you off the roof.”
Tim had glanced up, not looking even a little bit disturbed by Jason’s warning. “I knew it was you.”
Jason had scowled at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
A vague floppy gesture Jason’s sleeping bag. “You saved me, so I followed you back here.”
“I saved you so you stalked me?” That was honestly more disturbing than anything else. Jason didn’t like people knowing any more about him than they had to.
Tim had frowned in confusion. “I just wanted to know where I could go if someone chased me again.”
Jason had scowled and spent the next twenty minutes yelling at the kid about how stupid that was and how dangerous running back to Jason while being chased would be for Jason.
Tim had been back the next night.
It had become obvious very early in their relationship that stalking was how Tim showed love. He loved Batman. He loved Robin. And he loved Jason.
After a couple weeks of nightly encounters, Jason had stopped trying to chase the kid away. Tim seemed to notice and appreciate the change, even though Jason had fervently denied it. Tim brought him ice cream the next night in a silent celebration.
So, that was how their relationship started to work. Jason kept pedos and muggers away (because Tim knew how to avoid neither) and Tim would show up randomly, drag Jason around town, and pay him for his friendship services with food, money, and books.
It was nice to have a…a friend. Even if it was a weird little kid a few years younger than him with too much money and not enough supervision. Even before the food and books. He’d been so lonely since his mom died, and it was nice…to not be alone. Most people on the streets were too dangerous to ever let his guard down around. They’d kill him for his shoelaces if they wanted to, or sell him on the black market if he showed any weaknesses.
Tim, though, sat on the edge of the roof with him, chatting all about an amazing shot he’d gotten and the mechanics of how he’d gotten it. Tim would let Jason yak his ear off about the latest book Tim had got him from the library, and even manage to look interested most of the time. Tim would show up randomly with milkshakes and burgers and a huge baggie of pills for Jason that he swore up and down were vitamins so fervently that Jason had actually believed him. Tim would never even think to think wow, I could get thirty bucks for half his liver.
Tim was a weird little kid, but he was a good one.
Jason had seen the other kids from school and his apartment building who'd had brothers or sisters. There was always some sort of begrudging toleration and amicable hostility between the siblings, and even though every sibling ever would promise him that he was luckier without them, Jason had always kind of wanted someone he could talk to and feel at home with as his dad was jailed again and his mom wasted away on the couch. Someone he could talk to, hangout with...a friend who would never even think to betray him.
Even though it was a bit late to get one the normal way...well, Tim's parents never seemed to notice that Tim was gone at unholy hours of the night, even though he must have slept in late to compensate, so they probably didn't care all that much. That was fine, though. Jason could watch out for him for them.
Unlike Tim, Jason was not a good kid; he was a hungry kid. Not a lucky kid either, or so he’d thought at first when Batman caught him stealing his tires. Maybe very lucky, though, because Batman had apparently thought awww, what an adorable little filthy street gremlin! I’m gonna keep him! and had done just that. Suddenly, Jason had a dad(?), a butler (grandfather?), and a dick. He wasn’t going to capitalize that word, even in his inner monologue. That jerk deserved the cruel parents who’d slapped him with the name to begin with.
What he didn’t have, not anymore, was a Tim.
Jason threw himself into his Robin training, pushing himself as hard as he could so that he could get back out there and look for the kid. What if he’d gotten killed or kidnapped while Jason was living it up in his new house? Jason would never forgive himself for agreeing to stay with Bruce if anything had happened to his little stalker.
It still took six months for Bruce to have approved him. B warned him his first night he let Jason out on patrol with him that he’d been keeping an eye out for any little kid, maybe eight or nine, running along after him with a camera. He’d even looked around Jason’s roof and left a note that Jason had scribbled down for Tim that said as much as Jason could dare tell him without risking any secrets, but he hadn’t seen a trace of Tim.
Even with the warning, it was still with a heavy heart that he climbed back into the Batmobile that night after spending most of the night on the lookout for Tim.
And the night after that.
And the night after that.
The night after that, Jason was miserable for another reason.
“B, how do you tie this thing?” Jason asked, fooling with the ends of his tie as he wandered into his adoptive da- No, that was weird. Too soon. Maybe later. Probably later. As he wandered into his adoptive Bruce’s room.
He was pretty sure the he’d just knotted the stupid tie hopelessly and that it would have to be cut off his neck, but Bruce had only turned with a poorly hidden smile of amusement and gestured for Jason to sit on the bed.
Jason did so, but his heart pounded just a bit. Not because he actually thought Bruce was going to do anything creepy – he’d had Jason more than six months, and Alfred would probably shoot Bruce and have his head stuffed and mounted in the kitchen if he tried anything like that – but he’d spent so long on the streets doing everything possible to avoid the beds of rich men that it still made his skin crawl just a bit.
Bruce knelt down in front of Jason and started to undo the knots Jason had managed to nearly hang himself with. After a couple of minutes and only moderate success, Bruce chuckled.
“I see your practice with knot work hasn’t gone to waste,” Bruce said, and even though he was teasing, Jason still felt a small burst of pride in his chest.
“I’m a quick learner,” Jason quipped back.
Bruce smiled and the last knot finally came out. “I’ve noticed.”
Jason’s heart fluttered a bit, and he smiled back. His dad had never said nice things to him, or smiled at Jason when he wasn’t drunk or planning something, or helped Jason get dressed. Bruce, for as weird as the man could be, somehow always managed to make Jason’s chest all warm with happiness and peace, feelings only Tim had ever been able to draw out while he was on the streets.
Bruce knotted the tie the way it was actually meant to be, and straightened it with his hand to smooth out the wrinkles. “Perfect. You’ll fit right in.”
The pleasant feeling in Jason’s chest soured to dread. “Are you sure I can’t call in sick?”
Bruce lifted an eyebrow. “The gala is for you. You are actually supposed to be there.”
Jason scowled. He was probably about to spill a glass of punch onto the million dollar shirt of some rich snob, and Bruce was going to finally listen to everyone who’d told him that adopting Jason was a bad idea. They’d just finalized the adoption, though, that afternoon, which was the whole reason for the gala in the first place, so Bruce would probably have to keep Jason around just to save face. Didn’t mean he'd keep being nice to Jason anymore after that, though.
Bruce tweaked his nose. “You’ll do well. Who knows, you might even make friend.”
Jason scoffed at that pipe dream and glanced away so Bruce wouldn’t notice the way Jason’s eyes stung. “With those assholes? I already met plenty in school, B, and everyone already hates me.”
Bruce frowned so hard Jason could feel it. “You never know, Jaylad. Sometimes people surprise you.”
Jason spent the first hour of the gala plastered to Bruce’s side and being introduced to guest after guest. They all blurred together, with their identical suits and hair cuts and dresses. If any of them had ever had an original thought, Jason would have been shocked.
“Bruce!” a man called with a grating amount of enthusiasm.
“Jack!” Bruce cried, matching the man with mirrored mirth.
It was almost disturbing to see how well Bruce could lie. The Brucie persona fit him like a glove - it was definitively not him, but it was eerie nonetheless. Besides, if B could act like that, was everyone acting? Were any of the people in the room actually the persona that they displayed?
Jason turned grudgingly to face the newest guests he had to smile and be the perfect little Wayne heir for, but he really just wanted his comfy seat in the library and the ratty copy of Pride and Prejudice he’d rescued from a dumpster back before his mom had died. Sure, Darcy and Lizzy were fake, but they were fake trying to be real, not the other way around.
A man with gelled black hair and an unnecessarily broad grin was sweeping toward them, followed by a woman with immaculately swept up brown hair and an elegant dress. She caught Jason looking and gave him a grimace-smile that told him exactly what she thought of him. It took every ounce of strength he had not to flip her the bird and let her know that the feeling was mutual.
Jack started talking with Bruce, going on like they were old friends despite the fact that Jason had been living in Wayne Manor for more than six months and met or heard of everyone who could even sort of be called one of Bruce’s friends but never of this Jackass.
Then, suddenly, a little kid in a nice suit like Jason’s came running through the crowd, skidding to a halt just beside the lady’s skirt.
When the kid raised his face to look at his scowling mother, Jason’s heart stopped. “Sorry, mother, I got separate in the crowd and-”
“Tim?” It came out broken and strangled. Tim wasn’t dead. He hadn’t been murdered or kidnapped in some alley because Jason had ditched him for a better life. He was in Wayne Manor. But how was he- Dammit, Jason had thought he was rich, but not that rich.
Tim turned in confusion, then he gasped and his face lit up. “Jason!”
Jason couldn’t even remember which one of them moved first, but the next thing he knew, his arms were full of the scrawny little stalker he’d missed for months. He could hear Bruce stammering out some nonsense half-truth for how he and Tim had known each other, but even he sounded surprised. Jack sounded confused, but his wife sounded somewhere between displeased and calculating.
None of that mattered, though. He had his little baby stalker/brother...whatever Tim was, back, and he was never letting him go again.